In January

Winter drags on.  The earth that can be so yielding and warm is stone hard, unforgiving, and relentlessly cold.  It is hard to imagine flowers breaking through that barrier and reclaiming the world though I know that each has its season, that despite its stubbornness, winter must eventually yield.  But it is not the cold that keeps me housebound and off my bicycle; it is the ice and snow.  This winter it has seemed that no sooner have the roads cleared than a new storm hits, sullen and gray. I am desperate for the road and the solace that it brings.

I worry about the winter weight gain and the loss of fitness.  I worry about how I will ever be able to do the early brevet series that I have planned to get to PBP for my swan song.   I think of how difficult it will be to go back into that pain and remember being alone in the dark night on my way to Brest, wrestling with the rolling terrain and a desperate desire to sleep, to lay by the side of the road despite the ever present rain.  I think how few people really know what it is to be truly weary: mostly soldiers and distance athletes I suppose.  I know that despite all the running and triathlons I completed before PBP, I had only been rendered tired, not weary.

Today I finally get out the door for a short ride.  The side roads still have icy patches, but I know that if I can make it to 39 the road will be clear.  Despite the flatness of the course I can feel the loss of fitness, but I am happy to be here, to feel my muscles working and my lungs steadily taking in and giving out air.  Health is such a blessing. Everything is gray and colorless, yet once again I spot the owl winging through the tree branches.  I stop to take a picture, breathless yet again at his beauty and still surprised at the gift of seeing him, but as I pause he once again takes flight and I lose sight of him.  

I don't have much time before sunset, but I rejoice in being able to be out here.  I just can't discipline myself to the trainer.  A new batch of icy weather is predicted in a few days.   But I am thankful for today, the wind on my face, the sweat on my skin.  Alive.

PBP 2007 11

The journey is ending. Things are becoming blurred in my mind and I begin to wonder what quits first: the mind or the body. I determine it is probably the mind. Though my body is exhausted, I feel like my legs could continue their journey forever, but my neck is starting to hurt and I feel at times as if my eyes want to roll back into my head. I begin to dream of hot water and the smell of shampoo and soap and the feel of toothpaste for I have lost my toothpaste somewhere along the way. At one point I stop to lie down and rest in the beautiful yellow flowers that line the road only to find that they are some type of stinging plant. While it is painful, it also wakes me up and I am able to ride farther while the welts subside. I decide to take caffeine at one point, and only realize later that it was not caffeine that I took but Ibuprofen. I don't know why I brought the Ibuprofen as it would be a real emergency before I took it on a ride due to the preliminary studies about its effect on liver and kidneys when a person is dehydrated.

I realize as I write this that it was a later control where I found Johnny, during my last nap. Dave was long gone. I had found Steve Royse eating at that control as well. He looked as fresh and as upbeat as the day we left and I was feeling so very sick that I wanted to slap him. I was sitting there with all this food I was going to force myself to eat, unable to stomach more than a bite or two. I will later run into him on the road, but only after I have awakened and hammered the hills hard afraid I won't make the control deadline. I end up in a paceline with people from four different countries. The one from the US is trying to make 80 hours. We are moving at a pretty good pace and I hold on for about a half hour, but then I am spent. I also paceline with some man with a white and light blue pants and jersey. I can't remember the lettering and I am not sure where he is from, but he makes me feel good right before he drops me by looking back and nodding his head in approval. Funny how some things transcend language. Not eating has done me in again. Royse came along and swept me up off the road giving me lollypops and encouragement, and we end the ride together. I am able to keep down soup at the last control. I cry as we reach the finish line, but I am smiling. One woman comes up to tell me she thinks what I have done is wonderful, and I agree. We wait a long time to sign in at this control, much longer than anywhere else along the route. Royse talks about a party, but I insist that I just want a toothbrush and a bath and to try to eat again. I know my body needs food even though it doesn't want it.

At the hotel, following a good toothbrushing and a hot, sweet smellings shower then bath, I realize I am glad to be able to do girl things again like spread lotion on my skin. It feels so soothing. My private areas are pretty raw from the rain, the distance, and losing my butt paste along the way. I have learned so much from this experience. I think of all the people who made this trip possible, this feeling as if I am in awe of myself and what I have done. I don't know if I will ever do it again, but I am so glad I did it. So many people to get here. Eddie, Davy, the Steves, and on and on. And now I have something I can hold tightly to myself when I am feeling caged in or lonely. I hope I can remember the feel of the wind, the rain on my skin, even the smell of my wool jersey at the end of my journey. I think of the thinking errors I made during the ride and am amazed at how sleep deprivation blurs thoughts. I still don't really have an answer about the body/mind connection and which gives out first. If I ever ride another such event, I will be able to ride it better I believe. But mostly, I am glad I was here and that I did this thing. I finished. Along the way I saw many who did not. I saw strong men broken by the weather and the course, pain on their faces as they realized they could not go on. So many things that I could never write them all down. I wish I had taken the time to take more pictures. Perhaps in the future......

PBP 2007 10

After Loudiac, I finally manage to throw up. While it scared me due to dehydration concerns, I felt so much better. The rain had stopped temporarily and I had a wonderful hour or two. I knew I was feeling better when I started to sing and climb. It was one of those times when those around you seem to be feeling weaker and for some strange reason you are feeling stronger and stronger. I stop to take pictures of some of the flowers. When I stop to brush my teeth alongside the road as they feel like they have developed fur, I see a beautiful creek off to the side. At a small village, I find a stream with the most beautiful swans, and always there are the French yelling, "Allez! Bravo!" The climb into Brest is fun and when I get to the top, there are crowds of people who seem to go wild when I reach the top and am still climbing standing out of the saddle. I am sure it is my imagination, but it seems real and so I pretend. Then comes the most wonderful descent that seems to last forever. Near the bottom I pass a large group and cry, "Rally Brest! Rally Brest!" Being male of course this meant they had to give chase and we hammered for quite some time before I saw Johnny riding off to the side and dropped to chat for a moment. I then started stopped at each child I saw and leaving some gift with them: a sticker or a toy parachute or a tootsie roll. We come to the bridge at Brest and the wind almost blows me over. One of my great regrets of the ride is that I didn't stop to take a photo as I thought the route would be out and back and I would catch the view on the return. I later take pictures at the summit of the hill I was on such a high over earlier, but it was nearing dark and they did not turn out so well.

At the control, I find my stomach is upset again. I have started eating at the bars and places between controls, but I decide to eat at the control here. I am waiting in line wondering if I can ever stomach another jambon avec fromage sandwich again when some man dressed in a suit asks if I am aware there is a restaurant with no waiting a bit up the hill. He walks me up there and speaks perfect English. He asks if he can take my picture and e-mail it to me. I tell him yes. He writes my e-mail address down and I note that he has the addresses of many others. I have never gotten my picture so I wonder if I have been scammed, but if so, it is too late. I am missing broccoli and spinach and roughage in my diet. While at Brest, Dave comes in after me. I tell him where I will be in case he wants to ride with me. He finds me in the restaurant and we decide to continue our journey together for awhile.

We ride into the dark and see a man weaving on his bicycle. He asks for help. Dave stops and then I stop. We find that he has not eaten or drank anything since 5:00 as he got sick to his stomach. Jamie from England stops as well, and then a nurse. We make him eat and drink and spend quite some time helping him. Jamie says to me that it is time to try some tough love as we will not make our time if we continue to stay, so we take off. Dave catches us and we make the control. I was thinking this was where we find a McDonald's, but I must be wrong, because wherever it is we end up, we see Steve Rice getting ready to head out. It must have been Loudiac as Joe wasn't with him and must have been at the hotel. Dave and I get into a small tiff when he wants to tell me when to get up rather than when to leave, and I hope I don't hurt his feelings as I suggest we just take off alone. I want a bit more sleep than he is allowing and decide to give myself the luxury of three hours. I go to bed and look over. There is Johnny three mats down. What a hoot. Later I will tease him about sleeping with him;-) This from the woman who, despite temptation, has not slept with anyone but her husband in 28 years. The next thing I know I feel tiny hands on my shoulders, and a child is whispering, "Madame, madame, it is time to get up." Even the small children know quite a bit of English and I feel stupid. One of the things Jamie and I talked about in the dark of the night is that he was amazed when Dave told him he doesn't know French. Jamie teaches French to adults. It makes me realize how little he understands America. I don't speak French either. If I were going to learn another language that I would use, Spanish would make more sense. But I just listen. Jamie is big. He has one daughter. He has never done LEL and has no desire to do so.

But enough for now. It is time to leave for the hospital again.

PBP 2007 8

We are back at the motel. The bikes are not allowed in our personal rooms, so there is a large room where they are kept. The carpeting is covered with plastic. The room is filled with bicycles and bike boxes. The boxes also litter the stairwells. When we take our bikes and check out, this is where our luggage will stay until our return. I feel very lucky that I never had to move more than five or six bikes to get to my own. I also am glad I am not neurotic about scratches on my bike like I am about so many other things. I learn so much by just watching the others. Many are veterans, others are new like me. I see different seats and different lights and different thingamajigs.

The other picture is the bar where people kind of loiter on the first floor. Only two more days and we will be leaving. Tomorrow is bike check in. I grow more and more nervous, but the good kind of nervous. I ask myself over and over why I want to do this and never do come to much of a good reason other than to see if I can. I am hoping for good weather, but I hear the forecast is for rain. (Boy were they right;-)

PBP 2007 6

My saga continues, this time to try to get my mind off of the day and the doctor that left us hanging by not coming to tell us our options as promised. His failure to show worries me. Was there another emergency or does he not know what to do? My husband is stable, but not well. There is a grayness to his complexion that I do not like, and his blood is so thin that any prick leaves it flowing. Though he will not admit it he is frightened, and I am frightened and not afraid to admit it. He sent me home to get some sleep. It gives me a chance to drop the face I maintain there and cry. If and when they decide what to do or what they can do, I will be staying down there most nights until he is stronger, if he gets stronger. God must give me strength because I am a weakling and a coward in the face of this nightmare. There are things I need to say to him, but there is such finality in words and I can't yet go there. But onto Paris, a place I perhaps should not have gone

After lunch we head to Notre Dame. I believe that I read Hugo's "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" when I was younger, but I barely remember the story. There are gargoyles and wonderful carvings and statutes. The towers lift one upwards towards the heavens, and I am sure that was there intent. There are tourists everywhere dressed as brightly as any cyclist. Birds gather in flocks hoping for a spare crumb or two. And who do we run into but my nephew, Chris, and his wife, Dian. I knew they were in Paris and that they wanted to meet, but who would have thought that we would meet like this. I am glad because it takes the pressure off of me to try to meet prior to the ride. We talk about possibly meeting for meal, but we know it probably won't happen. I remember Chris when he was a small child before his mother's accident. So many years ago, yet just like yesterday. Everyone is getting tired at this point, but we decide to go to the graveyard. Alex recommended this to me. I am not a Jim Morrison fan, but he told me the graveyard had other things much more wonderful.

Paris Brest Paris 2007 4

These pictures are also from the pre PBP tour. We are at the Eiffel Tower. It was interesting to me to find that there were uniformed guards carrying machine guns. They came up to us during our visit and told us not to leave our bikes. For some reason, they seemed very uncomfortable with us being there. Steve Royse, as usual, has a lollypop hanging out of his mouth. My middle brother, Chris, the dentist, would not approve. Fueling is problematic when one has a dentist as a relative;-)